Why They Call It Falling
by Rogue Tomato
Summary: Ziva's always been happy with the life she's chosen for herself. So why is she suddenly feeling as though she is missing out on something important? NFA 2013 WEE story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS.

**A/N**: This story was written for the 2013 WEE on NFA. I used this prompt for inspiration: _Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around._ -Leo Buscaglia

_**~~~NCIS~~~**_

"Finneus Templeton?"

Tim sighed the kind of sigh that he only reserved for Tony. The one that he pulled out when Tony was in one of _those_ moods. The kind of mood that was grating, yet so completely _Tony_, that Tim could do nothing else but breathe and go along for the ride. Tony would get it out of his system soon enough.

"Yes, Tony."

"Finneus. Templeton," Tony repeated slowly, licking his lips afterwards as if he were tasting the name.

"He used to go by Finn, actually," Tim recalled, not that it mattered. Tony was on a roll with this one.

"Finnn-neee-us-"

"Tony!" Ziva suddenly shouted from behind them, causing the two agents to spin around precariously on the narrow dock. "Let it go already."

Tony opened his mouth as if to continue, but a well-timed glare from Ziva put a stop to it. Tim only shrugged when Ziva threw a look his way, but was relieved that it lacked the same amount of heat bestowed upon Tony. She somehow managed to squeeze between the two men without knocking them into the water, her boots echoing softly on the wooden planks.

"Who names their kid Finneus Templeton, anyway?" Tony continued once Ziva was out of ear-shot.

Tim stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but he couldn't stop himself from keeping his voice as low as Tony's when he responded. Ziva had been unusually reserved ever since the call about the dead Petty Officer came in, and he didn't particularly feel as though now would be a good time to get on her bad side.

Not that any time was a good time, he thought with a shrug.

"Mr. and Mrs. Templeton, apparently," Tim pointed out.

"Ah, yes. Of course. Parents who clearly didn't mind their kid being picked on in school," Tony added as an afterthought. "Although he's done well for himself, I suppose, owning a 125-foot yacht."

"Yeah, with a dead person on it," Tim reminded him.

"Details," Tony dismissed with a wave of his hand.

They strode side-by-side until they reached the end of the dock where the yacht in question was moored. White, large and extravagant, it did not stand out among the hundreds of other vessels which were housed along the Washington Channel. Four floors, wrap-around windows, and a large sundeck spoke volumes about the kind of life Finn had been living since graduating from MIT. He knew his old classmate had done well for himself, but _this_? The amount of money he'd had to have spent…

Then again, Tim had owned a Porsche at one point, so who was he to judge?

"Take your Dramamine today?" Tony asked with a smirk, his eyes reflecting the amusement over Tim's discomfort of stepping foot on anything afloat.

"Tony… the boat is attached to the dock. Not out at sea. I'll be fine."

This time Tim did roll his eyes when Tony sidled up next to him, his face barely a few inches away from his own. Why did Tony have zero concept of personal space?

"If you say so, McSeasick," he whispered before quickly bending over, his pouting face hovering somewhere close to Tim's navel. "You be nice to Timmy, okay Timmy's tummy?"

Then, standing, Tony winked at him and boarded the yacht. Tim shook his head before slowly climbing aboard behind him. And yes, he had taken some Dramamine before he left the office, _thank you very much_, but he was not about to admit that to Tony.

Over the sundeck and through the main deck aft area, Tim followed behind the senior field agent. Deeper they went into the yacht, passing through the galley and crew quarters, before reaching their final destination: Finn's room. The familiar voices of Ducky, Jimmy and Ziva mingled with those of the Metro officers already on the scene, and Tim took a moment to survey the space.

It was clean and organized, decorated sparingly with mementos and other items that might have had some personal importance had they not seemed so generic. Three small ports centered on one wall, while the others were lined with bookshelves, drawers and a full-length mirror. Two doors branched off to what appeared to be a his and her bathroom, and a walk-in closet finished it off. The only thing that gave any indication of who occupied this space was a wooden frame, which Tim noted held Finn's diploma. There were no personal photos. No souvenirs. It was oddly sterile and formal, as if it were a photo from a catalog.

"All done perusing, McGee?"

Tim nearly jumped when Gibbs' voice rumbled from behind him, and he turned so they were face to face. He blushed.

"Yes, Boss."

A moment passed before Gibbs raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Photos, McGee?"

"Right. Sorry, Boss."

The scene was gruesome, forcing Tim to clench his teeth in hopes of staving off the bile threatening to rise in his throat. He hid behind the protective lens of his camera, even though each photo he took captured the Petty Officer's final moments in graphic detail. Ducky and Jimmy were assessing the body, and Tim maneuvered around them as they cataloged his injuries.

_It appears to be blunt force trauma to the head_, Ducky was saying. _Of course the autopsy will give us a clearer picture_ _of how he met his unfortunate demise._

The Petty Officer lay slumped on his side, body and legs sprawled parallel to the bed. Below the neck, his body was unmarred. But above…

_There are skull fragments everywhere, doctor, _Jimmy helpfully pointed out.

Tim closed his eyes as nausea suddenly threatened to throw a party on his shoes.

What he had told Tony earlier was basically correct… with the boat being docked, Tim was less likely to experience seasickness. However, the waves lapping against the yacht combined with the horrific images in front of him were causing Tim's stomach to flip. Tim swallowed hard as he continued photographing the scene.

The man's face… or what remained of it… wore a surprised expression, as though getting his skull bashed in had not been on his agenda for today.

_Lack of defensive bruising suggests he knew his attacker, Jethro._

Tim leaned down to photograph the victim's hands.

_Time of death, Duck?_

Being this close to the body, Tim could _smell_ the blood, and his stomach did another summersault. Standing too quickly, he felt his blood rush away from his head. He threw a hand out against the wall for support.

_I'd say between four and six hours ago._

Tim hated that he was having such a bad reaction. He tried to tell himself that he'd seen worse crime scenes than this, but conjuring up images of past victims did nothing to help his sudden barf or flight reflex.

_McGee…_

Maybe it was because it was Finn's boat? Not that he and Finneus had been that great of friends at MIT, of course. But he wasn't too keen on having another person he was connected to be potentially tied to a crime…

"McGee!"

Tim snapped his eyes open to see everyone in the room staring at him. "Yes Boss?"

"Go check on Ziva," he said with an ounce more understanding than irritation.

_Thank goodness for small mercies_. Tim didn't need to be told twice; after giving Gibbs a grateful smile, he high-tailed it out of the room in search of Ziva, and hopefully some fresh air along with her.

He found her alone on the sundeck, and Tim took several calming breaths before approaching her. He watched as she concentrated on her task, scanning the deck with a keen eye. He marveled at how gracefully she moved, somehow seemingly right at home, both among the million-dollar yachts and the bloody carnage that was below.

That was the beauty about Ziva, he supposed. Sophisticated _and_ deadly.

Yet today, she was tense. Tim could see her rigid posture, the slight frown to her lips, the number of times she checked her watch. There was something… preoccupied about how she was going on with her work today. Tim followed her gaze as she stared out at the open water, but there was nothing but the waves and water and a few white dots of sail boats on the horizon. Ziva didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular.

"Ziva?"

She didn't respond, nor did her gaze falter.

Tim frowned. Ziva was always aware of her surroundings; Tim had never seen her distracted like this. He took a few tentative steps forward, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm.

"Ziva?"

She jumped, pulling her arm away quickly and taking an instinctive step back.

"What, McGee?"

His frown deepened at her tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine," she said evenly, but Tim could see the reigned in emotions and thoughts turning behind her calm front.

"You seem distracted." When Ziva didn't answer, Tim's heart clenched. "Oh man, Ziva… you don't know the victim, do you?"

"What?" She looked at him, confused. Then, realizing what Tim was asking, she smiled, though it seemed forced. "Oh no, McGee. No, I do not even know the victim's name."

"But I do!" Out of nowhere, Tony's hand whacked McGee on the back, causing him to nearly drop the camera he'd forgotten he'd been holding. "Got it right here in my handy dandy notebook."

"Well?" Ziva asked. "What is it?"

"We'll get to that in a minute," Tony said. "McGoo is right. You've got a bug up your butt about something. Do tell."

Ziva scowled. "I do not even want to know what that means, Tony. But if you must know, I had plans for this evening with some friends, and I am worried that this case will prevent me from going."

"Friends, huh? From Israel?"

"Believe it or not, Tony, I do have friends in the United States," she scowled before continuing. "My friend, Lital, is taking the train from New York. Her twin sister and a few of her friends flew in from out of town last week, and we are all meeting for dinner this evening."

The notepad Tony was fiddling with suddenly stilled. "I'm sorry, did you say twin sister?"

"Yes, they are twins," she confirmed. "But do not get any ideas, Tony. Lital is happily married, and her sister, Mali, will be also very soon. She is here vacationing before her wedding day."

"Oh, I see." Tony grinned and waggled his eyebrows, mock-seductively. "Bachelorette party?"

"It is not a bachelorette party. Jewish tradition encourages couples to limit their time together during their engagement." She paused to give Tony a sultry look. "This, of course, serves to… _amplify_ the wedding experience."

"Oh yeah?" Tony's grin grew even wider.

Ziva smiled the first genuine smile Tim had seen all day before returning her focus back to the task at hand. Leave it to Tony to bring Ziva out of her shell…

"So," Tim prompted. "The victim's name?"

"Not now, McGee. Less about me, and more about Ziva's twin friends."

"Tony!"

"Fine!" Tony pouted, flipping open his notebook with a flourish. "Petty Officer, third class, Ernest Barker. Twenty six. Born and raised in Mobile, Alabama," he finished with a thick, southern drawl.

"Oh God… Ernie?"

The shaken voice caused the agents to turn, noticing for the first time that they were not alone. Tall, with a slender build and light brown hair bleached by too much time in the sun, it took Tim a moment to recognize the man as Finneus Templeton.

"Finn?"

The man blinked slowly a few times, his gaze settling on Tim as a wave of recognition washed over his face.

"Timothy McGee!" he exclaimed, only somewhat subdued, the shock of death momentarily forgotten. He strolled forward to shake Tim's hand. "I don't believe it. It's been ages. Last I heard, you were at Johns Hopkins."

Tim shifted the camera he was holding to shake Finn's hand. "Yeah. I'm with NCIS now. We're investigating Officer Barker's death."

Finn raked a shaking hand through his hair at the reminder. "Ernie… I can't believe it. When Metro called me… I just… how did he die?"

"That has yet to be determined by our medical examiner," Tony said, inserting himself into the conversation.

"Right. Of course. This is just… such a shock."

"How did you know Barker?" Ziva asked from behind them, and Finn's eyes lit up at the sight of her.

"Oh, he was a consultant for my company, RadSim Technologies," Finn took a few business cards out of his pocket, handing one first to Ziva, then to Tony and Tim. "I develop integrated bridge and navigation systems for mega yachts."

"And Mr. Barker did what, exactly?"

"Radar, mostly," Finn answered, tearing his eyes away from Ziva to look at Tony. "Helping with the integration of the AIS and ECDIS, as well as the SENC-Data controls."

"Uh, right," Tony nodded, not bothering to take notes.

"He's good… uh, _was_ good. He had so much potential…"

"When was the last time you saw Barker?"

Finn looked back at Ziva. "This morning. He stopped by the office."

"Was he upset or did anything seem out of the ordinary?" Tim asked.

Finn shook his head. "No, I don't think so. We didn't really talk long. Just some minor details on his latest project. I had some meetings to get to, and when I was done, he was already gone."

"Where were you between the hours of 2 and 4pm today?"

Finn looked surprised by the question, but only for a moment before a thin, poised smile was back on his face.

"Am I a suspect, Agent…?"

Ziva remained silent, her sour mood apparently returned and unabated by Finn's attempts at flirtation.

"David, Agent David," Tony answered for her. "And I'm Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo."

"And I'm Gibbs. You Templeton?"

Tim somehow managed not to jump this time as Gibbs, once again, appeared out of nowhere. Finn, however, was startled and some of his cool façade fell away when face to face with the gruffness that was Gibbs.

"Why don't you answer the question?" Gibbs prompted after Finn's nod of affirmation.

"I, uh, was out looking at the fleet we currently have docked," Finn began. "We have yachts moored here, as well as James Creek and the Gangplank. I've done some upgrades recently, and I wanted to check on their installation."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed, and Tim knew that look. The one that he used when sizing up someone, somehow determining their trustworthiness by just a glare. Tim wasn't sure what Gibbs thought during this process of his, but he was sure his brain was somehow communicating with that infamous gut, somehow calculating Finn's honesty.

Finally, Gibbs nodded to Ziva. "Take him down to Ducky. Confirm the ID."

Ziva did not look pleased at the idea of having to spend more time with Finn, but she silently led the way. Before they left the fading sunlight of the deck, Finn turned to address McGee one final time.

"We should have dinner tonight, Tim. Catch up. Are you free?"

Tim looked uneasily from Finn, to Gibbs, then back to Finn again. "Uh, I'm not…"

"You have my card," he said with a smile. "Give me a call."

Tim didn't get a chance to respond before Finn turned around and followed Ziva's retreating form. Tony came up beside Tim, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Wow. That's Finneus Templeton?"

"Yup," Tim said stoically.

"He's not what I pictured at all."

"I know."

"Was he like that at MIT?"

Tim made a non-committal grunt as he shrugged his shoulders. He and Finn had been enrolled in several of the same courses, but had minimal contact outside of the classroom and the occasional study group. He had been somewhat popular with the girls (and rumor had it with the guys, as well), but Tim didn't recall him having this much confidence before.

Though he appeared to be genuinely shaken by the death of his employee, he had shrugged it off easily enough. And now, as Tim watched him follow Ziva into the yacht, Tim found he agreed with Tony. Finn wasn't as Tim pictured him either.

Gibbs walked over to where Tim and Tony were standing, and pierced him with _that_ look. _Great…_

"Why don't you go to dinner with him tonight?" It was an order disguised as a suggestion.

"Boss?"

"Go out with him tonight," Gibbs repeated.

"Do you want me to question him about the case? See if he's lying about anything?"

"Go out. Have a few drinks. Catch up on old times." This time it was an order not disguised as anything. "Come back into the office tomorrow morning."

"Uh… okay. But Boss, Ziva had plans for tonight. Maybe she…"

Gibbs cut off Tim with a smile. "Don't worry, Tim. Ziva will make her plans for tonight. Tony and I can handle the case for now."

As Tim climbed down from the yacht and headed toward his car, Tony's grumbling about missing any of his potential evening plans far behind him, he realized that Gibbs hadn't really answered his question. It was going to be an interesting evening.

_**~~~NCIS~~~**_

"What about you, Ziva? When are you going to find a man and settle down?"

Ziva nearly choked on her drink.

The evening had gone really well so far. She was thrilled that Gibbs had given her the evening away from the case so she was able to meet up with her friends. It had been far too long since she had seen Lital, and even longer since she'd visited with Mali. The sisters were lively and carefree, sharing stories and long-winded anecdotes from their childhood. Lital, along with Mali's other friends who had come along for the trip, gave marital advice ranging from very serious to hilarious.

The conversation had stayed mercifully away from Ziva's solitary life up until this point. She was painfully aware that she was the only one at the table tonight who was not involved in a serious relationship. She figured it would come up eventually. It usually did when she was around her married friends.

She looked around from one expectant face to another. Clearly, they all felt that her life was not complete without a husband to go home to and a child to care for. She had a career she was proud of. Friends that she would die for. A place to finally call home after too many years of floating around like an empty, plastic bag. Why could they not accept that she was happy the way she was?

She forced a smile on her face and tried to think of an answer that would satisfy her friends.

Nothing immediately came to mind.

"I am quite happy with my life as it is," she said carefully.

"But you need a _man_, Ziva! Someone to make you even happier… more fulfilled!" Mali said with a smile. "I was also very happy in life, but then I met Berel. And now I cannot imagine my life without him."

"He _completes_ her," Lital said with a smirk, and Ziva half-heartedly joined in the laughter before succumbing to the need to step away from the conversation altogether.

Pushing her way to the bar, Ziva leaned forward, practically having to shout at the bartender to get his attention. She usually wasn't a heavy drinker, but if she was going to have to put up with more interrogations on when she was getting married and having babies, she was going to need to be sufficiently tipsy first.

"Ziva?"

She was yanked away from her melancholy thoughts and she spun around to see McGee seated at the bar, leaning around two beefy gentlemen that sat between them.

"McGee? What are you doing here?"

"Meeting Finneus. Well, I was, but he called and canceled just a few minutes ago, and..." Ziva could hardly hear him over the din of the bar, but she smiled as McGee rambled on anyway.

"…figured I could have a drink before heading home," he finished with a shrug of a shoulder. "Are you here with your friends?"

"Yes, they are… oh, McGee, hold on a moment."

Ziva grabbed her drink order and wove her way around the large men to get closer to McGee. It was no less noisy over at this end of the bar, but at least she wouldn't have to shout.

"This is better," she commented with a smile. "Yes, my friends are here. But what of your friend? Is everything all right?"

McGee shrugged. "Who knows. He isn't really my friend. Gibbs asked me to meet with him tonight, so I'm sure his cancelling will only make him look guilty in everyone's eyes. That's just what I need," he said with a sigh, slightly slouching in his seat. "Another friend involved in something illegal."

"And what of you, McGee? Do you believe he is involved?"

McGee shrugged again, taking a long drink before answering.

"He's involved," he said quietly. "Even if he didn't kill Petty Officer Barker, it's his company. His yacht. He's involved whether he avoids me or not." He took another drink before he straightened. "I'm sorry, this isn't really that important. I'm keeping you away from your friends."

Ziva looked back at the table where the ladies were sharing a laugh. She frowned a moment, realizing that she was not very eager to rejoin them.

McGee caught her look and put a hand on her arm. "Hey, is everything okay?"

Ziva pulled her arm away quickly, feeling a small pang upon realizing that this was the second time today she had rejected his simple way of comforting her. She smiled apologetically.

"Yes, McGee, of course. You will be alright alone?"

McGee smiled. "I'm fine, Ziva. I'll be heading home after my drink."

She nodded, they exchanged farewells, and all-too-soon she found herself back at the table with her friends.

"Who was that, Ziva?"

"What?"

"That man up there you were talking to," Lital clarified, casually pointing at the back of McGee.

"That is McGee… uh, Tim. We work together."

"Maybe I should go talk to him," she said with a wink. "Ask him to join us."

Ziva was unsure if she could handle her friends doting upon McGee, grilling him for answers about who-knows-what, impressing upon him their insistence of how Ziva should get married and have children and _oh, by the way Tim, do you want to get married and have kids_?

"No," Ziva said with a shake of her head. She was certain she could not deal with _that_ conversation right now.

"He told me he was heading home after his drink," Ziva responded firmly, and silently prayed that Tim would hurry up and finish his drink before her friends took matters into their own hands and convinced him to stay. Remarkably, Tim stood in that moment and after flopping a few bills down on the bar, turned to leave.

His eyes caught hers and he smiled warmly before he turned away and disappeared into the heavy crowd.

Lital elbowed Ziva lightly. "He's cute."

Ziva said nothing, and soon enough, the conversation turned away from Tim, and back to Mali's upcoming nuptials. And while Ziva was grateful for the reprieve from being the center of attention, she felt her thoughts constantly going back to those questions, and what she imagined McGee's answers to be. She was well aware of his desire to find someone special in his life… and his seemingly never-ending string of bad relationships. Yet he seemed to maintain a positive attitude about it… insisting that there was someone out there for him. She could only imagine that once he found that special woman, they would settle down and have children.

As she absently picked at the wet bar napkin nestled under her drink, she tried to imagine little McGees running around the bullpen. They all had his startling green eyes, of course. She smiled when she imagined McGee setting a little girl on his lap, letting her play with his keyboard, her dark black hair up in pigtails the way her mother used to do her own hair…

The rest of the team would spoil her rotten, keeping her more than entertained until her mother arrived. McGee would smile in the same warm way he'd smiled at Ziva tonight, when she would step off the elevator to meet him for lunch or bring him home after a long day. The perfect family…

It was what McGee deserved…

…and what Ziva would never have, she realized with a pang of sadness.

Ziva's eyes refocused on her surroundings. Stealing a quick glance around the table to make sure no one had somehow read her mind and was aware of this personal revelation, Ziva was happy to see that the conversation continued to flow around her, uninterrupted.

_Yes_, she thought with a sigh, taking another long drink. _Happy…_


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Templeton will be with you shortly," the receptionist stated with a smile.

Tony and Tim sat in the lobby's only two chairs while Ziva scanned what little she could see of the office's interior. It was of moderate size, made to appear much larger than its actual square footage due to the alarming lack of furniture and decorations. The reception area held only the half-moon desk of the receptionist and the two chairs currently occupied by her teammates. The company's name tacked to the wall above the blonde receptionist's head was simple, if a bit dull, and there was absolutely nothing in the lobby area that elicited a warm or hospitable welcome. A bit odd for a place of business, she thought.

A small movement from Tim caught her eye, and she fixed her gaze on his hands as he fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket. His posture screamed nervousness, and Ziva immediately tempered her suspicious thoughts surrounding Templeton and his company. McGee had confided in her last night his worry about having another friend or family member connected to a crime, and she certainly didn't need to exacerbate his tension. Especially when Finneus had done nothing thus far to warrant such distrust, outside of making poor choices in interior design.

The office was rather quiet and void of any activity beyond whatever the receptionist was doing… which, presently, was absolutely nothing. She was sitting calmly behind her desk, lazily filing her nails. Ziva heard the approaching footsteps and turned to see Finneus Templeton strolling forward, a confident grin already plastered on his face.

"Agent David, it's nice to see you again," Finn strolled forward, offering his hand. Ziva shook it politely as Tony and Tim strolled up behind her. Finn nodded to them both. "Is there anything new with the case?"

"We just have a few more questions for you," Tony stated. "Is there someplace we can go talk?"

"Of course, of course. Follow me."

Finn turned and strolled back the way he came, which ended up being a very short corridor leading to a larger room filled with gray cubicles. Once again, Ziva was struck with how quiet it was. She was about to ask about other employees, but Tony beat her to it.

"You recently do some redecorating?" Tony asked in that _I-am-trying-to-only-sound-curious-but-really-I-am- suspicious-of-you_ kind of tone. Finn looked confused, so Tony continued. "I can smell the fresh paint."

"Ah!" Finn nodded with understanding. "Yes, just painted. Haven't been here long."

It was Tim's turn to be wary. "According to your finances, RadSim has owned this space for eight months."

"Yes, well, we've owned the space since February, but only just moved in," Finn explained with a casual smile as he waved them into the conference room.

_He has an answer for everything_, Ziva thought, and then scowled at herself. _Innocent until proven guilty. For Tim's sake._

"Please, sit." Finn directed them toward the office chairs situated around a large, glass table. The room was brightly lit, thanks to the floor to ceiling windows that offered a spectacular view of the city. The team sat down on one side while Finn sat on the other. It wasn't supposed to be an interrogation, but their respective positions made it appear that way. Glancing over to Tim, Ziva could see in his expression that he was experiencing the same sensation.

"Well, what can I do for you?"

The questioning began, and Finn easily answered each of them. Ziva studied him for any signs or tells that he was lying or covering up anything, but she found nothing in his body language or responses that hinted toward deceptiveness. Even Tony, who did most of the questioning, seemed to sense the easy-going attitude of Finn, and eased up a bit toward the end. Tim also visibly relaxed, which Ziva was happy to see. And while it was appearing less and less likely that Templeton was directly involved in Barker's death, there still was the glaring fact that the Petty Officer had been found on the man's yacht.

That was something that could simply not be ignored.

"Did Petty Officer Barker often visit your yacht?" Ziva asked, finally joining the conversation.

"Yes," Finn nodded solemnly. "I let him stay there often, actually. I only took the yacht out on the weekends, so he'd often crash there during the week. He'd been living out of hotels as of late, and I figured he'd appreciate something a bit closer to work, if you catch my meaning. My yacht was the first equipped with his new system, and he liked to tinker with it during his off hours."

"I'd like to see what Barker was working on," Tim asked once Ziva zoned back into the conversation around her. "RadNav, you called it?

"Uh, sure," Finn nodded slightly. "I can lead you to his workstation. It's a bit out of the way. He liked the privacy, you understand."

Tony and Tim stood to follow, and Tim turned when he noticed Ziva wasn't following suit.

"Coming?" he asked.

"I think I will interview the rest of the employees."

"Okay," Tim said with a smile, and hurried to catch up to Tony and Finn.

Ziva spent the next thirty minutes speaking to anyone she could find in the office… which turned out to only be two other individuals. One, the rather ditzy receptionist, didn't pick up the phone once or do any work on her computer the entire time Ziva was in her presence. She had very little insight into Petty Officer Barker, let alone RadSim in general. After speaking to her, Ziva wondered how on earth the girl had gotten hired in the first place. She hardly seemed capable of anything outside of doing her nails and primping herself.

Next was Benjamin Watson, a skittish engineer who reminded her a little of Tim. He seemed kind and shy, until he began opening up about his work. Though much of what he said was beyond her understanding, she could see the love of his work in the way that he spoke of his job at RadSim. Most importantly, he did not give her the impression that he was capable of the violent act she had seen on Templeton's yacht the previous day. He, too, had very little information to give on Barker, seemingly not having worked closely with him at all. He did let slip that Greg Avila, someone he did work closely alongside, had not shown up to work today. Ziva noted the name and thanked him for his time.

"Doing alright, Agent David?"

"Yes, Mr. Templeton, thank you."

"Please, call me Finn," he smiled, and she smiled politely back. "Agent DiNozzo and Tim are looking over some of the technical manuals of our products here," he continued. "I wanted to see if there was anything I could do for you?"

"What can you tell me about Greg Avila?" she asked as they strolled side by side back to the conference room. "I was told that he did not make it into work today."

"That's true," Finn stated once they'd settled back into their seats around the glass table. "Didn't call, either. To be honest, it isn't the first time. Greg… he's not the most reliable of employees. But he's brilliant, so I tend to give him a little bit of leeway."

"What does Greg do here?"

"Worked with Ernie on software development. GPS tracking, radar, satellite uplinks and the like. The two of them… they were quite the pair," he said with a laugh. "Opposites, really, but they worked so well together."

Ziva nodded in understanding. "And you are not worried about Greg's absence?"

Finn waved her question off with his hand. "Hardly. As I said, it wouldn't be the first time. He probably went out late last night, had a few too many, and is sleeping it off."

"Everyone seemed to get along with Petty Officer Barker," Ziva told him, reviewing her notes. "What about Greg and Barker? Did they…"

She was cut off as Finn's cell phone rang, its sound unusually loud and echoing in the large conference room.

"Oh, excuse me for a moment, I really should take this call." Finn stood, but before leaving the room completely, he turned back and said, "Ziva, could you and I continue this conversation over dinner? Maybe this evening?"

Ziva smiled. "It would not be appropriate for me to meet you outside of a… professional… capacity. I hope you understand."

"I do," Finn replied with a sad smile. "Perhaps after the case has been resolved?"

"Perhaps," she conceded, and Finn turned to leave her sitting alone.

As he walked away, Ziva realized that Finn reminded her a little bit of Tony. They were both strong men, extremely confident and capable, and quite sure of themselves. She was comfortable with that… she knew how to play the part around that type of man. It was why she and Tony got along so well. Their personalities fit well together, like two pieces of the same puzzle.

She easily fell in line with the flirting, the glances that lasted just a bit too long, the smiles and laughter at the appropriate times.

But the longer she spent time with Finn, she couldn't help but relate him to her previous evening's discovery. Perhaps it was men like him that prevented her from envisioning herself settling down someday, because she simply could not see herself spending the rest of her life with a man such as Finn. Yes, he was good looking. Intelligent. Successful. But was he the type of man that she could _love_?

She didn't think so.

She had come to that same realization about Tony not long ago. Destined to be friends, nothing more. And she was okay with that. More than okay, actually. She loved Tony, much as she loved many of the colleagues she held dear. She shared a special relationship with him, one that she wouldn't trade for anything.

And that was the problem.

She was afraid of taking that next step. Too often it had ended badly for her. In fact, it _always_ ended badly. Why chance it again? Only when she knew any romantic relationship she was involved in was destined to fail?

So Ziva would continue to say no to Tony. Say no to Finn. No to any man that fit the same mold in her mind as they did, because saying yes would only lead to disappointment.

A soft clearing of a throat behind her snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see McGee standing near the door.

"Tony and I are all set. You ready to go?" he asked, and she held his gaze for a moment before nodding.

"Yes," she confirmed with a smile that he easily returned.

_**~~~NCIS~~~**_

"On my way, Duck." Gibbs slipped the phone back into its receiver, stood and moved towards the elevators, barking orders as he went. "Tony, RadSim's financials. Ziva, family history. McGee, financials on all of RadSim's employees."

A chorus of "Yes, Boss" rang out as he stepped away. There were several minutes of silence as the agents went to work on their respective tasks, but Ziva had to have known it wouldn't last for long.

"Finn seemed nice," Tony said a little too casually, and Ziva said nothing. "I think he likes you. Did he ask you out?"

"Yes," she replied curtly. Tim's typing hitched, but resumed just as quickly when Ziva continued. "But I obviously said no, Tony."

"Oh?" Tony's expression changed. "I'm surprised."

"And why is that?" she asked, rising to the bait.

"He seemed like your type."

"My type," she deadpanned.

"Yeah. And I figured with your friends here, all married and pregnant and happy, that you'd be itching to jump on the bandwagon."

"Tony…"

Unaware that he'd hit a nerve, he continued, full steam. "You could triple-date with those twins!" he said in awe. "Would you have to vacation away from Finn if you got engaged, considering he's not from Israel? I mean, I'm sure he'd be all in favor of enhancing the wedding night…"

"Tony!"

He stopped suddenly, and looked at her in alarm. Aware that she'd managed to draw the attention of the entire floor, Ziva took a few calming breaths before grabbing her coat.

"I'm going to get some tea."

She didn't miss the frown that crossed his face, nor how he noticed the cup on her desk, still half-full with the tea she'd brought in earlier. But she didn't care as she stormed away from her desk toward the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Down the stairs and into the open air, she immediately felt better as the chill of autumn sent shivers down her spine. Pulling her coat around her, she strolled briskly toward the park in the distance… a bench in its center currently unoccupied.

With a slight huff, she sat and stared at nothing in particular. She knew she was overreacting, and would have to apologize to Tony later, but for now, she needed to clear her mind and focus her thoughts. And that was something she simply could not do inside.

It seemed as though autumn had finally decided to arrive. The last lingering days of summer had faded as the ground was littered with orange, brown and yellow leaves and bare branches now stretched out towards winter. The sun was out, but provided little warmth at this point in the year.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Ziva squinted up against the sunshine to see McGee standing behind the bench. He smiled warmly at her before walking around and sitting, their shoulders brushing slightly as they sat side by side.

Ziva sighed, but remained silent. The thing of it was… she _did_ want to talk about it. She had slept terribly the night before, reviewing her life's decisions over and over until sheer exhaustion finally pulled her under. She had always thought herself happy with where she was, but that was before last night's outing with her friends had caused her to second-guess herself.

And she _hated_ second-guessing herself.

She looked to McGee, who was patiently waiting. He always knew not to push her when she needed time to sort through her thoughts.

"I should not have let Tony get under my skin like that," she admitted.

"Well, I can't say anything against that. You know how often I let him get to me," he said with a shrug. "It's just Tony being Tony. You know he didn't mean anything by it, right?"

"Of course."

"Good."

They lapsed into silence for a while, Tim letting her set the pace of the conversation.

"A husband. Children." Ziva paused and shook her head. "I had long ago accepted the fact that I would never have that life. And that I did not _want_ that life. I had even convinced myself that perhaps I did not even deserve that life," she added softly.

"Ziva," McGee protested, but she didn't let him continue.

"I am _happy_ with my life!" she said loudly. "Can I not be happy without getting married or having children? I just can't, McGee. I cannot afford to fall in love!"

_And yet…_

And yet deep down she knew that wasn't true. It wasn't that she didn't want it… it was the sad realization that she simply would never have it. Too many factors in her life were working against it. Her job. Her background. Her relationship history. Her own commitment issues.

_Wanting_ that life just simply not enough.

"I do not understand why this is affecting me so badly," she confessed softly. "I thought I knew what I wanted. And now… I'm not so sure. And I _hate_ it. I hate the way it makes me feel."

McGee didn't flinch. He didn't shift uncomfortably. He hardly moved against Ziva's outburst, and for a moment, Ziva's heart dropped when she thought he would have no reaction whatsoever. Then, finally, he shifted slightly so he was facing her more directly.

"I don't know what to say to make this better," he admitted.

Ziva could see a small look of anguish in his eyes at that statement, and that view into such raw emotion alone warmed her. "I do not know that there are any words that can, McGee."

He nodded. Then, biting the inside of his cheek, he searched her face for a moment before asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

Ziva couldn't help it… she laughed, releasing all of the remaining tension she'd been clinging to for the past twelve hours. Still giggling slightly, she scooted over and let herself lean into McGee's side. He comfortably put an arm around her and they sat in silence for a while.

"You can, you know," Tim said finally. "Fall in love, I mean."

Ziva didn't know what to say to that. She simply didn't believe it anymore. She recalled the looks on her friend's faces… Lital and Mali… they were so happy and in love. It was a look she had recognized in herself, once upon a time. But time had a way of molding people into shapes they no longer recognized, and Ziva was not immune to that change.

"You just have to let yourself," Tim continued quietly. "You have to put yourself out there. Sure, people will let you down. Let's not even talk about the number of failed relationships I've had." Ziva chuckled quietly, and could feel the vibrations of Tim's chest as he joined her. "Sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to, but you can't let that stop you. If you get hurt, you just have to get right back up and try again."

Ziva shook her head, and Tim tightened his hold on her slightly in response.

"They don't call it falling for nothing, you know," he finished.

She smiled. "You are quite the philosopher, McGee."

Anything he might have said in reply was cut off by the ringing of his phone. Ziva removed herself from his arms, and he shuffled around in his jacket.

"McGee," he answered.

Ziva sat in silence as McGee spoke on the phone. She smiled a bit when his body language changed subtly… it must have been Gibbs on the other end of the call. It was a short conversation… as ones with Gibbs generally were, as a rule… and he turned to her after it had ended.

"Gibbs wants me to go back to RadSim. I guess Greg Avila finally showed up to work. Did you want to come along? Get away from Tony for a while?" he asked with a knowing smile. She smiled back.

"No, that is alright. I should continue my search into Barker's family history."

"You still convinced that his death is related to his work?" Tim asked.

"I am unsure," Ziva acknowledged. "I do feel a bit uneasy about all of this. Don't you?"

McGee shrugged. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"I am sorry, McGee. If Finneus is involved…"

"It's okay, Ziva," he cut her off with a genuine smile. "It really is."

McGee stood, and she stood along with him. They walked in companionable silence back toward the Navy yard, Ziva with much on her mind, and McGee texting on his phone. Once back, she and Tim parted ways and she walked into the elevator alone, lost in her own thoughts.

She thought of McGee, and his complete faith and certainty that she could find the kind of happiness she was seeking. She could still feel the warmth of his arms around her, the softness of his breath when he spoke reassurances to her… reassurances she hadn't realized she was in such need of until they were spoken.

A sharp thought occurred to her suddenly: she wanted to be in love. Her chest tightened against the strong desire to no longer feel so damned alone in this world, and she nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. One heart-felt conversation with McGee, and she suddenly craved the life that she was certain she'd never have? Delicate desires that she'd kept formless within her had been turned solid in McGee's presence, and now that they'd been given weight, she was feeling crushed by what it all meant.

How, exactly, had McGee been able to do that to her?

_**~~~NCIS~~~**_

"Thanks for coming, Dorneget."

"No problem. I was actually happy to get your text. I've been cataloging sick day usage for Legal, and well, it's…"

"A bit boring?" Tim finished for him with a knowing smirk, and Ned nodded back.

"Yes. Not that I'm complaining, really," he added quickly.

"Don't worry about it," Tim reassured him as he parked the sedan and the two headed toward RadSim's building. "It'll be nice to have someone with me who isn't looking at me every few minutes with pity."

"Pity?"

Tim shrugged it off. "Tony and Ziva. Even Gibbs is being nice, which is… weird. But Finneus Templeton is an old schoolmate of mine, and he owns the company. Plus, Barker was found dead on his boat. So, naturally, he's a person of interest. And I guess they are all worried I'm going to crack or something over having another person I know involved in a murder case."

"There have been more than one?" Ned asked, surprised.

"Unfortunately."

"You think Mr. Templeton is involved this time, too?"

"Probably," Tim disclosed quietly. "Anyway, we're here to talk to Gregory Avila. He was not in this morning when we interviewed the rest of the staff. Apparently he worked closely with our victim."

They reached the glass double doors, but they were locked. Frowning in confusion, Tim pointed to the right where the building curved around along a side street. Following along the structure, they turned again to the rear of the building to find three large garage doors, closed, and also undoubtedly locked. Luckily a side entrance was not, and the two agents entered quietly.

Dorneget let out a low whistle. It was a large interior, each garage door leading to a huge storage bay with three impressive yachts.

"Nice," Ned stated simply.

"NCIS," Tim announced to no one in particular, and no one responded. "Mr. Avila?"

His voice echoed around the big room, but still there was no response. Tim nodded to Ned, who pulled out his weapon as Tim did the same. There was no reason to believe that Avila was dangerous, but there was something about this situation that was nagging at Tim. Ned pointed silently to a door to the left, and they walked briskly over, opening the door to reveal a set of stairs. Again in silence, they ascended three floors, finally reaching RadSim's office space.

It was empty.

"Mr. Avila?" Dorneget moved out of the stairwell's entrance and into the lobby area, Tim close behind.

"This isn't right," McGee said quietly, turning in a small circle in the center of the room.

The business was entirely deserted. Not just of people (not that there had been many employees here to begin with), but of furniture, electronics… anything that indicated that a company operated here. The lobby chairs he had sat in that very morning were gone. The receptionist's desk was still standing, but there was no desk chair, no computer, even the company's name had been removed from the wall. He steered Dorneget down the corridor which led to the conference room, again to find it empty.

"Something is wrong," McGee stated. "This morning… there was a business here this morning! Furniture… cubicles… people!"

"Tim?" Ned nudged him, and Tim turned to see him pointing at a body in the corner of the abandoned office space. Running forward, he holstered his weapon and knelt down to check for a pulse. There wasn't one, but the body still felt warm. Not dead for long, then. He recognized the man as one of RadSim's employees Ziva had spoken to this morning. He resisted the temptation to check for an ID, knowing Ducky would kill him if he disturbed the body.

"Mr. Avila, you think?" Ned asked from behind Tim, and he nodded in response.

"No, I think his name was Ben Watson. Looks like he was shot," Tim began, pointing to the messy point of entry in the man's abdomen. Tim stood up, taking out his phone in the process and glancing up at Ned. "I'll call Gibbs…"

The only warning Tim got was the flicker of Ned's eyes as he glanced past Tim's shoulder. He started to raise his gun, but wasn't quick enough before a single shot rang out and Ned was on the floor, clutching his arm. Tim dropped his phone, reaching for his own weapon, but another shot rang out and suddenly Tim couldn't do anything except focus on the white-hot pain that radiated through his body.

He crashed to his knees, hands groping his side, already sticky wet from the hot blood soaking his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he thought he heard as he fell the rest of the way down to the floor, unfortunately landing face first. The rush of sound flooding his ears made it impossible to form any kind of coherent thought, let alone hear the words being spoken to him. Tim blinked hard, trying to separate real life past the dark spots dancing in his vision.

Rough hands flipped him over, but he had no energy to do anything beyond groan in pain. He vaguely thought he heard the sound of his phone being stomped on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tim knew he should be worried about something… some_one?_... but the pain in his side was too great. It felt like ages (minutes? hours?) had passed before there was the sound of a gun discharging again and again, only going silent seconds before he was ultimately swallowed by darkness.

_**~~~NCIS~~~**_

"Boss, I've found something interesting," Tony reported as Gibbs strolled into the bullpen, fresh coffee clutched in his hand. "Coast Guard has reported seven attacks against private yachts over the past six months."

"What kind of attacks?" Ziva asked from behind her desk.

"Aye, they be pirate attacks, ma'dear," Tony began, but quickly stopped at Gibbs' glare. "Sorry, Boss. Reports say unmarked boats approached the yachts, fired off some rounds as a warning, and then boarded… taking valuables and the like."

"And this is important how?" Gibbs asked, impatiently raising a single eyebrow.

"All of the yachts had RadSim technology on board. Specifically, their new RadNav system."

"The one that Petty Officer Barker was in charge of," Ziva concluded.

"The one and only," Tony said with a smile.

"Show me the dates."

"Boss?"

"The dates of the attacks," Gibbs clarified, sitting down in his chair and waving vaguely to the view screen.

"On it." Tony scrambled to his computer, and after a few moments, photos of the yachts and corresponding dates were up on the screen. "First one was a little under six months ago. April 28th. Yacht belonging to a Mr. Douglas Tartar. He reported masked men storming the yacht, and stealing a luxury liquor bottle that had an 18.5 carat diamond inside."

Tony clicked the remote and a new set of photos were brought up.

"Next was May 13th. A yacht owned by Mr. and Mrs. Graffino. Same situation with the masked men on an un-marked boat boarding them. They lost a lot of jewelry, including a diamond Gucci belt."

Another set.

"Third was…"

"May 22nd," Gibbs finished for him. "And next was June 8th. Then July 1st."

"Yeah, Boss," Tony nodded. "How did you…?"

"Gregory Avila's financials," Gibbs interrupted. "I had McGee pull them before he left. On each of those days, he had an influx of funds in his off-shore account."

"How much?" Ziva questioned.

"$100,000 each time."

Tony whistled. "So, Avila tells the pirates where these yachts are. They raid, plunder and steal, and Avila gets a cut of the profit."

"But how does he know where the yachts are?" Ziva asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Gibbs asked as he stood, opening his desk drawer and holstering his gun before grabbing his jacket. Tony and Ziva quickly mimicked his actions after sharing a look of confusion. Gibbs smiled as he led them to the elevator.

"Call McGee," he said, punching the down arrow a bit harsher than necessary. "Tell him we're on our way, and not to let Avila out of his sight."


	3. Chapter 3

"He's still not answering, boss," Tony said, clicking his phone shut after leaving one of a series of semi-threatening voicemails. (_Probie! We're on our way. Avila's our guy. Keep him there, but don't tip him off that he's our guy, got it? … … … McGee. Pick up your phone. Don't make me call Dorneget! … … … Timothy, this is Anthony. Stop ignoring these calls and Answer. The. Phone! And tell Dorney to change his voicemail greeting. It's goofy. But then again, he's kinda goofy, so… OW! Thanks, Boss…)_

"That is unlike McGee," Ziva pointed out. She turned twisted her position in the front seat of the agency sedan to exchange a wary look with Tony, but said nothing further, neither of them wanting to put a voice to their concern.

Gibbs sped the car through the early evening traffic, quickly closing the distance between themselves and the Washington Channel. Tony watched the buildings whiz by in a swirl of color, only occasionally having to cling to his seat or door to steady himself. Glancing out the windshield, Tony did a double take, finally leaning forward so his head was nearly parallel with Gibbs and Ziva.

"Is that…?"

"Fire," Gibbs breathed out.

The dark smoke plumed into the sky several streets ahead, and the agents' fears were confirmed when they pulled up to RadSim's headquarters. The building was nearly engulfed in flames, hemorrhaging bits of debris from the windows and roof. The team nearly sprinted from the car once it was parked. Tony and Ziva kept close on Gibbs' heels as they easily located the man in charge.

"Gibbs, NCIS," he recited quickly, flashing his badge. "What can you tell me?"

Tony tuned out the man's report as his eyes danced across the building, slowly lowering to take in the streets surrounding the building. A crowd had already gathered outside of the taped perimeter, scrambling for a view of the wreckage and eagerly capturing the images on their camera phones. Tony continued to scan the boundary until he saw it through the gaps of people and kaleidoscope of flashing lights.

A navy sedan. NCIS standard issue vehicle.

No doubt it was Tim's.

Raised voices turned him around, and he saw Gibbs toe-to-toe with the Fire Chief.

"I may have men in there!" Gibbs was shouting as the other man slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, but we cannot allow you, or anyone for that matter, to go inside there. We still have to…"

Distant shouting drew all of their attention to the right where two huddled figures were emerging from the building, one leaning heavily against the other. Tony didn't stop to think… he sprinted down the sidewalk to intercept the two individuals before anyone else. His heart dropped as he approached, seeing an unconscious Dorneget being pulled by Finneus Templeton.

"Ned!" Tony shouted, skidding to a halt once he'd finally reached the pair. "What happened?" he asked Templeton as he helped with some of Dorneget's weight.

"Greg," the man huffed out in a cough as they were joined by Gibbs and Ziva, as well as a crew of paramedics. Tony let Dorneget be pulled from his grasp, but he stayed close.

Dorneget looked like hell. The shirt on his left arm was soaked with blood as it stuck to his skin. His forehead also sported a gash, blood oozing down and into his closed eyes. But he was breathing… hurt, but alive, as the paramedics assessed his condition, spouting off relevant information to one another as they loaded him onto a stretcher and prepared him for transport.

"Where is McGee?" Ziva asked frantically, and Tony only shook his head in response. She turned her quiet fury to Templeton.

"Where is McGee?" Ziva demanded from him. "Where is he?"

"I don't…" he coughed out. "I don't know…" He was cut off as more violent coughs stole his breath. A paramedic quickly fastened an oxygen mask over his face, and Templeton hungrily breathed it in.

Tony swore under his breath, hastily turning away from the injured man to look at Gibbs, who was somehow trying to get information out of a semi-conscious Dorneget. There was a tight grip on his arm, and Tony twisted to see Finn staring at him. His eyes were clear, his skin color returning back to normal, and he was looking at Tony with pleading eyes.

"I didn't see Tim inside." His voice was strong, though muffled a bit by the oxygen mask. Gibbs, having given up on getting anything useful out of a groggy Dorneget, walked over as his cell phone rang.

"Yeah, Abs." Abby's voice managed to cut through the cacophony of noises surrounding them. Tony grimaced, glad he didn't have to be the one to break the news to Abby that Tim was missing.

"Where?" Gibbs asked, turning to look out toward the channel.

"We could ask Abby to trace Tim's phone, yes?" Ziva asked Tony as Gibbs shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"Won't work. Dorneget said a man shot both him and McGee before destroying both of their phones," Gibbs reported.

"McGee was shot?" Gibbs nodded silently at Ziva. "How bad?"

"He wasn't sure."

"How is Ned?" Tony asked.

"Shot in the arm. Bump on the head. He'll be fine," Gibbs reported before turning his attention to Templeton. "Who is Avila working with?"

"What?" Finneus asked.

"He isn't working alone. My forensic scientist was able to hack into your system's GPS uplinks. Two of your yachts just left James Creek. She contacted the owners, and they aren't the ones on board, which means someone else is on board. My guess it's Avila and whoever he's working with. Possibly the other half of his pirating team. What happened inside?"

"I'm not really sure," Templeton answered. "I arrived in the office and saw smoke coming out of the windows. When I went inside, I found Benjamin dead and your man there unconscious."

"Benjamin?"

"Watson," Templeton finished. "One of my employees."

"He worked with Barker," Ziva added, remembering her interview with the man just earlier that day.

"I never saw Tim," Finn continued. "I was checking on Benjamin when the next thing I know I am getting hit over the head with something and I must have blacked out. When I woke up, there was smoke everywhere."

"Alright," Gibbs began walking away, motioning for Tony and Ziva to follow. "We have to get to James Creek and intercept those yachts.

"Do you think Avila has McGee?" Tony asked.

"He's either on one of those yachts, or…" Gibbs looked back at the building, and Tony didn't even want to think about what he was implying. "We'll call the Coast Guard, and…"

"Wait!" The team slowed to a stop to see Finn running up to them, an exasperated paramedic following closely behind. "I have several yachts here. You can take those." He pointed beyond the still-burning structure toward the Washington Channel.

Moments later they were running down the sidewalk toward docks. Tony could see that though the yachts were still quite large, they were smaller and sleeker than Templeton's personal one.

"We'll each track down one of the yachts," Gibbs explained on the way. "Tony, stay here and secure the scene. Call the Coast Guard and request assistance. Once that's done, check on Dorneget. See if you can get any more details out of him."

"Gibbs, wait," Ziva stopped running to eye the vessels in the distance carefully. "I do not know how to drive a boat."

Gibbs contemplated that a moment before Finneus spoke up.

"I can," he said. Gibbs looked at him a long moment, sizing him up, and Finn continued in earnest. "Please, let me help find Tim. It's the least I can do."

Finally, Gibbs nodded, and the three of them ran off toward the docks, leaving Tony behind.

_**~~~NCIS~~~**_

Ziva watched with curiosity as Finn expertly piloted the yacht out of the docks and they sped across the water. Abby texted Ziva the coordinates, which Finn added into his navigation system, and they were quickly underway. With the yacht seemingly driving itself, Finn pulled out his cell phone and shot off a quick text.

"Trying to reach out to Greg," he answered Ziva's questioning glare. "I don't know if he'll answer, but if he has Tim, then maybe I can convince him to let him go."

"I would prefer he not know we were coming," Ziva stated firmly.

"Oh, I didn't tell him we were," he assured her. "Just appealing to his humanity, I guess."

At Ziva's nod, they fell into a comfortable silence. Finn occasionally would check his phone for a response, but none came. Ziva kept her eyes peeled on the horizon, waiting for a glimpse of the target of their pursuit. Soon enough, the channel opened up to where it met the Anacostia, and eventually the Potomac.

"There!" Ziva pointed. Straight ahead, where Abby's coordinates had led them, was another, non-descript yacht. She noticed immediately something was wrong.

"It's sinking!" Finn voiced her fear.

"How?" Ziva asked, unable to pull her eyes away from the sight. It was clearly a lot lower in the water than it should be, but Ziva could not see any external damage that would cause such a thing.

"I'd have to get on board to know for sure."

"How long?" Ziva asked, frantic in the knowledge that not only had McGee been shot, but he could also be on board a floundering vessel. "How long do I have?" Ziva demanded when Finn didn't answer.

"I don't know!" Fin shouted back, and Ziva sighed in frustration. "Look, I'll pull us up alongside," Finn said a little more calmly. "You should be able to jump right on board."

Telling Finn to remain where he was, Ziva jogged to the sundeck and waited. It wasn't long before the yachts were side-by-side, and Ziva carefully hoisted herself up on the railing. Keeping her balance, she waited until the right moment before leaping across the small space and landing as quietly as possible on the other yacht, immediately pulling out her weapon in the process.

Ziva wanted to call out for McGee, but her training took over and she clenched her jaw in silence as she focused on sweeping each room she passed through. Though it was a bit smaller than the yacht that had been home to their crime scene, this still had several rooms to explore. Luckily there were only two decks, and she quickly cleared the top one before working her way downstairs to the lower level.

Unlike the main deck, this area was one large room instead of multiple, divided areas. It looked almost like a cargo hold, with several dozen, large wooden crates situated around the small space, no doubt filled with Avila's illegally procured goods. The sloping floor caused by the listing ship made it difficult to navigate around the crates. Streaks of dust and shallow grooves on the ground showed that many of the crates had slid across the floor when the boat began to take on water, shifting most of them down toward the far wall.

Ziva found McGee behind the final crate.

He was inside a locked, steel cage, and what that was doing on board, Ziva hadn't a clue. He was seated, with his hands secured behind his back, though from this angle, Ziva could not see how. He was slumped forward, unconscious, and Ziva's blood boiled at the sight of the blood caked on his shirt. But he was breathing.

"McGee," she whispered, shaking the steel cage and causing it to rattle loudly. "McGee!"

With a groan, McGee rolled his head to the side, and his eyelids began to flutter open.

"That's it, McGee. Open your eyes."

His green eyes were clouded and searched the room in confusion before settling on Ziva's face. She held her breath as his gaze lingered upon her without any trace or recognition.

"McGee?"

He screwed his eyes shut, clearly in pain, and Ziva's fingers itched to reach in and comfort her friend, but he was too far within the cage and she could not touch him.

"It is alright, McGee. I will get you out of there."

She thought she saw his head move in an affirmative nod, but he was beginning to tremble (most likely in shock), so she wasn't sure. Releasing her gaze from his face, Ziva began to examine the cage more closely. On the other side she found the padlock, and was just about to bring up her weapon to fire at the lock when the sound of another gunshot had her instinctively spinning around. Just over the top of the crates, Ziva's view of the stairwell leading to the sundeck was briefly blocked by a body tumbling downward.

Ziva moved carefully forward, crouching low to the ground, her gun raised and ready. Slowly edging around a crate, she found a man face down on the floor, clearly dead from the gaping wound on the back of his head. It wasn't Finn, meaning it was Avila, or his mysterious partner. She scanned the area, debating between making her way back toward McGee to offer what little protection she could with a steel barrier separating them, or heading upstairs to find the assailant. Coming to a decision, Ziva did one final look around the room before inching her way up to the sundeck. She barely had two feet out into the sunshine before a figure crashed into her side, causing her to slam into the hard deck, her gun sliding out of her reach.

She scrambled to her feet, only to come face-to-face with Finneus Templeton, brandishing a Colt pistol. He made a wide arc around her until he was standing directly over her fallen weapon, bending over to pick it up while his aim on her never once wavered. He threw her weapon overboard, and she heard the soft splash as it impacted the water.

"Toss your phone," he commanded with a flick of his wrist. Ziva took in his cold expression, his calm hands as he gripped his weapon, and knew that she had greatly underestimated this man. "Now."

Ziva kept one hand up while sliding the other in her pocket, pulling out her phone, and pitching it over the deck and into the water.

"On your knees," Finn directed as he took a step toward her. The boat was starting to tilt more dangerously now, and Ziva waited, stalling for what little time she knew she had left.

"Why?"

Finn snorted. "I figured a seasoned NCIS agent such as yourself would have figured that out by now. On your knees."

Ziva shook her head. "No, why do this? Though he did not say much, I could tell that McGee felt very highly of you. Not only have you betrayed that friendship, but you also burned down your own business and killed two men! Now you plan on murdering two federal agents? Why?"

"It was all Greg's idea," he began, pointing down toward the dead man. "He came up with everything."

"It is rather convenient blame a dead man," Ziva snarled.

"He was brilliant, though," Finn said with a hint of admiration. "Did you know that we set up that office space in four hours yesterday morning? It was nothing but an empty shell until Greg made it over. It was a good thing you and your teammates didn't take me up on my offer for coffee. We didn't have electricity, let alone a coffee machine."

He shook his head almost nostalgically.

"I wasn't lying before," he continued, "when I said that Ernie had potential. He was incredible. The tracking devices he created in the RadNav systems allowed us to track down the yachts easily enough; selling that information to the highest bidder was the next logical step. We all had a cut in it… equal shares… until Ernie got greedy."

"You killed him," Ziva narrowed her eyes.

"No, that was all Greg. The plan was to scuttle the fleet. This one's nearly down," he observed with a thrill.

"Why kill Avila? I thought you were partners."

"More money for me," Finn said with a shrug. "Now on your knees."

Ziva lowered herself down, carefully angling her body toward Finn and keeping her eyes on his weapon. Predictably, he moved a step closer to orchestrate his kill shot, and Ziva nearly grinned. Springing into action, Ziva popped back up onto her feet, latching on to Finn's wrist and spinning outward, twisting his arm with vicious precision. With a shout, Finn dropped the gun, and Ziva didn't bother trying to pick it up.

Finn had height and weight as his advantage, but Ziva was too quick to allow him to use it. She jabbed and ducked, each blow hitting nerves and joints of tendons, maximizing each hit she lands with deadly accuracy. Finn fell to the ground within seconds, Ziva's foot pressed dangerously hard on his chest.

She was about to give him an ultimatum when he surprised her one final time, latching onto her heel and giving it his own twist. That, coupled with the listing deck, caused her to lose her balance and she stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her own feet down the stairwell. She barely managed to prevent her fall by clinging to the handrail a few steps down, and she whipped around, fully expecting another attack from Templeton.

But it never came. Instead, her heart sank as the door to the outside slammed shut in her face, and when the soft thunk of a tumbler locking into place echoed down the stairwell, realization slammed into her like a stray bullet.

Templeton had just locked her inside. She slammed her body against the door after a failed attempt at the handle. She tried a few more times before a distant rumble of another engine starting up had her pause. Templeton was on the other yacht, now. He was gone. She and McGee were alone.

_The boat was sinking._

She had no phone.

_The boat was sinking._

No way to contact Gibbs.

_The boat was sinking._

No weapon.

_The boat was sinking._

No way to force herself out of the room.

"Is the boat sinking?"

The pain-filled voice pulled her out of her panic and she dashed down the remainder of the stairs. McGee was awake, though clearly groggy, and staring at her with a confused expression. Once again she found herself wishing she could physically offer comfort to her friend, but it was useless.

"Yes, McGee, but we will be off the boat well before that happens." She was pleased with how calm and sure her voice carried, and equally as happy as she saw a little bit of the tension melt away from Tim's shoulders. "Can you get up?"

McGee shook his head. "Zip tied… to the wall," he grunted.

"How is your side?"

McGee looked down at his wound. "It's not too bad," he stated simply. "I'm not sure how much use I will be once we get out of here."

"Okay, that is okay. I will think of something. Perhaps…" McGee let out a quiet gasp. "What? What is it?"

She followed his gaze down, and saw a small puddle of water beginning to soak through his trousers. At first, she felt a flush of embarrassment on his behalf, thinking that he'd wet himself. But at McGee's panicked look, she realized that it was something much, much worse.

_The boat was sinking._

What began as a slow trickle started to steadily flow in directly behind McGee's trapped body. He was stuck at the lowest part of the boat. She caught Tim's eye, and saw how his brow crinkled in that way when he was extremely worried or upset, and realized that he had figured it out, too.

There was no way he was getting out of this alive.

"Ziva…"

"Okay," she nodded, speaking her herself more than to McGee. "Okay."

She stood suddenly, and began turning in a small circle, feeling oddly both frantic and calm as her eyes stared at the padlock, willing it to magically break open so she could reach her friend. Of course, that was impossible, so instead her mind raced with possibilities. The boat was taking on water. McGee, in the position that he was in, would be submerged sooner rather than later. First she needed to get him untied from the wall…

Bending quickly at the waist, Ziva pulled out the knife strapped to her ankle, straightening to eye McGee carefully.

"Okay, McGee, listen to me carefully," she began, walking back to the front of the cage so she was directly in front of him. You need to angle your body so you are as far away from the wall as possible. But I need a clean line of sight to your hands. Do you understand?"

Ziva didn't think it was possible with Tim's blood loss, but he became even more pale at what Ziva was implying.

"Why?" he asked shakily.

"I am going to throw my knife at the wall by your wrists. You can use it to cut the ties and free yourself."

Tim swallowed heavily and began to shake even more. "Uh, Ziva, are you sure…?"

"You have to trust me, Tim," she soothed. "Can you do that? Can you trust me with this?"

Something changed immediately in his expression… it was a look Ziva could not put a name to. Whatever it was disappeared almost immediately and he nodded firmly.

"Of course I trust you, Ziva." He shifted his body forward and away from the wall, though Ziva could clearly see the pain it caused him to do so. She waited a few moments, breathing deeply to calm her own nerves. She was fully aware of the knife's weight in her hands as she bounced it slightly, adjusting her grip over and over until she was ready. McGee never took his gaze off her, and when their eyes connected, that look was back… and he smiled.

Giving him a small nod, she focused her aim and threw the knife.

It landed perfectly.

Tim let out an audible sigh of relief, and immediately began rubbing his ties back and force over the knife's serrated edge. Minutes passed in silence as he worked, all while the water continued to rise within the large room. Because of the angle of the yacht, the water all streamed down toward the wall Tim was leaning against. Already the water was lapping over his stretched-out legs, and more than once Ziva saw him shudder against the cold. Finally, when the water was above his waistline, he gave a yelp of glee; his arms fell limply away from the wall and he slouched forward, exhausted. Giving him time to recover, Ziva turned and began to search the room again.

"Ziva…"

"I just need to find something to pick the lock," she reassured Tim as she heard him calling for her. Her shoes were starting to get wet from the slowly rising water.

"Ziva, you have to go."

"No," she said firmly from somewhere to his left. She peeked over to see that he was now standing and gripping the bars of his prison with one hand, the other pressed firmly against his wound.

"Ziva, please," he begged.

She ignored his pleading, desperate to find something of use to get the lock open. The room was heartbreakingly bare of tools. She warily eyed the crates, calculating the possibility of there being something useful inside, but it was futile. Each crate was sealed, and she would need a crowbar to get them open. Something else this boat seemed to lack.

"_Please_ go," Tim implored once more.

Ziva shook her head, getting down on her hands and knees to search on the floor for a pen, a nail, _anything_. She crawled the length of the room, but it was fruitless. She stayed on her hands and knees for a moment as the reality of the situation weighed heavily on her, and she took several calming breaths before standing.

"Ziva…"

"TIM!" He closed his mouth with an audible click, and he stared at her with slight alarm as she suddenly reappeared back in front of the cage. "I am _NOT_ leaving you here, do you understand me?"

She reached out then, taking his icy hands in hers and leaning forward so her vision was filled with nothing but his face, and she realized in that terrible, beautiful moment, that if she fails, they may die down here together. The last thing she sees in this life may be McGee, and she knows now that there may be nothing else at which she'd rather be looking.

His grip on her hands tightened, and she found that she was desperately clinging back.

"Do not ask me to do something I am incapable of doing," she whispered. "You, who have done more for me these past few days…"

"What? I haven't done anything, have I?"

Ziva laughed at that, because of course Tim would not understand. He couldn't know how much his presence, his smile, has meant to her. How could she explain that his smallest act of just _listening_ to her and understanding her minor crisis of confidence had changed the way she looked at her life and her happiness? Because Tim was right… he didn't do anything. He was just being himself.

And that's what made it so amazing.

What made _him_ so amazing.

"McGee," she began, not sure how best to explain it. "I am a happy person. I love my work. I love my friends. I have loved my life for some time now, and I never thought that would change. Except, now it has changed."

"Because I did something?"

Ziva laughed. "Sort of, yes. When you and I spoke yesterday, it changed the way I was looking at my life. It was as if our conversation pushed down a single domino, which toppled another, and then another… and they are still toppling over." She paused to offer him a small smile. "I am anxious to see what happens at the end."

Tim smiled back at her and shook his head lightly. "And you accused me of being a philosopher."

"And you correctly described this as _falling_," she tossed back.

McGee couldn't hide his surprise. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Then we are in the same boat," Ziva asked tentatively. "Yes?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Ziva, that was terrible," he said with a laugh, but he clung to her hand even more tightly. "But yes. I guess we are."

He shivered then, and Ziva looked down to see that the water was up to their thighs.

"McGee, I am sorry…"

His hand reached out through the bars and cupped the back of her neck. She leaned forward, closing her eyes, and their foreheads rested against one another through the cold steel. Ziva was struck by his nearness, his solidity. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was crying, yet not in sadness. These were tears of discovering what she really wanted out of life.

She took his hand away from her neck and pressed it against her cheek, not bearing to look at him any longer as the water inched above her waistline. She felt his fingers grow wet with her tears, but she refused to pull it away.

"Gibbs will find us," he whispered, and she finally opened her eyes to look into his. McGee conjured a small smile from some hidden reserve, and Ziva marveled at the depth of his caring and concern for her. Injured, shivering from cold, and minutes away from death, and he was still comforting her.

"McGee, I do not think…"

A sound… muted… but still noticeable, reached their ears and Ziva pulled away. Thinking quickly, McGee removed the knife from the wall and handed it over to her as she slunk toward the stairwell. She flattened herself against the wall, and waited.

A knock startled her, but it was the voice that followed that had her running up the stairs.

"Ziva?"

"Gibbs! In here! McGee is injured!"

There were a few more knocks and eventually a firm command to move away from the door. A few gunshots later, Gibbs, along with a few Coast Guard officers, were storming down the stairwell.

"Are you alright?" Gibbs asked, carefully eyeing Ziva.

"I am fine. But McGee is trapped and needs medical assistance."

Gibbs made quick work of the lock, thanks to his Sig Sauer, and soon enough, Tim was being helped out of the cage.

"Ned?" he asked Gibbs, pausing at the base of the stairs.

"Stable at the hospital, McGee" he reported. "You'll be joining him there shortly."

"Templeton?"

"In custody."

"Who was in the other yacht?"

"Finn's secretary. Enough questions, McGee, and let yourself be looked at."

Tim nodded silently as the Coast Guard personnel helped him wade through the water and up the stairs, out onto the sundeck. He blinked in the bright sunshine, and nearly stumbled. Ziva was at his side in an instant, linking his arm in hers. She smiled at him then, happy to know she was able to finally provide him with some support. Suddenly, Mali's words came back to her…

"_But you need a man, Ziva! Someone to make you even happier… more fulfilled! I was also very happy in life, but then I met Berel. And now I cannot imagine my life without him."_

As much as Ziva liked to tell people, including herself, that she liked her solitude, and that she did not need anyone, all it had taken was an evening with friends and a discussion with McGee to make her feel as though a part of her needed this type of relationship. It wouldn't be easy… relationships never were. But as long as she was with the right man… anything was possible.

And as she gave Tim's hand one final squeeze as the Coast Guard took over his care, she had a pretty good idea of who that right man could be.

**END.**


End file.
